Luna squeezed his cock and sputtered half a giggle, the kind that almost sounds like a tiny cough. He was marble hard, standing thick and substantial. Her grip was iron tight, forcing a rush of blood into the tip that made his crown swell and flush an arrogant purple. The final seepage spilled off the ridge, down the exposed length of shaft and over her knuckles in a rolling fall of spunk, like hot wax dripping down a candle and over the holder.

Her hands were big for a college girl. Strong and sure. There was a flicker of twisted fascination in her eyes as she watched the spasms of his cock subside to lazy dribbles. It was as if she were observing some natural phenomenon from a great distance, even though she was close enough that he could feel the steady pulse of her breath cross his flesh.

“Fuck, that’s a load of cum,” she said, as much to herself as him.

Mr Wolfe was trying to breathe again, watching her grip, squeeze and play. Her strength continually astonished him. As thick and curvaceous as she appeared - ripe breasts that leaned heavily with her gestures - she possessed deceptive agility and muscularity. She’d taken him to a place where he hovered in suspension, wondering if the wild, unrestrained fountain of raw, steaming spunk would ever stop flowing out of him. She’d made him feel like a power transformer had exploded in back of his skull and now the cables were dangling and zapping off sparks wherever they touched.

And she’d done it with her hands, one grasping the base of his shank tight as a blood pressure cuff, the other corkscrewing up and down his hard stalk with unrelenting persistence.

Luna’s hand and wrist were spattered with cum. Fat dollops clung higher on her forearm and even more speckled Mr Wolfe’s flat belly. She finally let his cock snap back against his body with a wet smack. She traced its ridges and contours with the tip of her finger. Then the finger moved onto his belly and lazily smeared figure eights in the cum on his skin.

He reached for her hair. Shimmering raven black all around her bare shoulders.

“I didn’t realize you were such an avid cum maven,” he smiled, lacing his fingers into her mane.

“I didn’t either.” She smiled back, but then a look of sudden bashfulness came over her and she glanced back down at his spattered belly and cock. “At least I never was before. Before I met you, I mean.”

He kept watching her face. She glanced up long enough to catch him, then looked down again, embarrassed. But she didn’t seem embarrassed by his watching her play with his cum. It was more like she was embarrassed over being herself, as if she weren't used to being caught being herself.

“I’m definitely not complaining,” he said, “but why the change?”

“Oh god, please don’t ask me something like that.” She turned her head completely away.

He unlaced his fingers from her hair and brushed them down the sleek knuckles of her spine. “You never have to answer anything you don’t want, but at least let me ask. Ok?”

Her finger kept moving around in the cum slick on his belly. Thoughtful. She nodded once. Then her lips curled into an improbable shape. “Ok,” she agreed. “It’s just…for whatever reason…I like making it come out of you especially well.”

He looked at her curiously but kept the question to himself. She answered anyway.

"It's cuz you blow like you mean it. Like you do lots of things. Like you mean 'em."

"Jesus, Lu," he muttered.

She lowered her head and pressed her lips against the broad smear below his navel. She kissed his skin lightly through the slick. Her tongue slipped forward and stole a fast lick. Then she moved up to face him. She paused, hovering, her shimmering wet lips dangling in front of him with provocative daring. She was like a sparrow with sudden courage, catching his eyes before she kissed him with her slippery mouth.

He bristled as she mashed her mouth over his. She could have just kissed him, if she wanted. She didn’t have to make a point of slathering her mouth in the cum puddles on his skin. He didn’t need to taste himself on her mouth to indulge some faint illusion of power or importance to her. He didn’t need to imagine that the simple and profane gush of his cum represented the mark of his heart upon her soul.

The only thing more common than a cock spouting jizz were pennies dropped in gutters from there to Purgatory.

It would have been a mistake to take her caution for weakness.

But fuck.

She was kissing him with all the motion of her extravagant body as she knelt and hunkered over him. She was talking to him with her lips, saying she’d taken him down inside her blood in secret, without even his knowing, and she was on a sudden impulse to give him this glimpse of the proof. His tongue made a hard, sudden sweep into her mouth in reply.

His hands swept up the damp silk of her body, up the sides of her thighs, rounding the taut curve of her ass, along the length of her spine and over her shoulders, down the arms supporting her weight, underneath to catch her naked, dangling breasts with pouting nipples to crush beneath his thumbs.

They kissed with their eyes open. An act of defiance full of unspoken challenges. But in the end it was nothing more than both of them tasting both of them. Mr Wolfe rolled, taking Luna over and onto her back as he pinned her down with his mouth. The only air they could breathe seemed to come out of each other’s body, and already he felt his cock pulsing with fresh life as she clawed at the back of his head and whimpered into his mouth.

Her pussy was bald. Puffed, yielding and wet. He pulled away from her mouth and they both gasped. His cock thickened and he ground the belly of his shaft against her mound.

She was smiling at him. She did it so rarely it was like winning a prize when she did.

“Guess maybe you wanna fuck,” she said.

“Guess maybe I do.”

She tilted her pussy against his cock. She was slick and smooth as ripe mango. He was beginning to throb again. Everything was nasty with honey and cream.

“Maybe a handjob isn’t enough for a man like you.” She snickered briefly, then turned her face to the side and covered her eyes with her hands.

“A man like me?” He laughed. He almost laughed out loud but he needed his breath for wanting her.

“Or maybe you just get hard seeing me play with your cum,” she said. She tilted her hips again and caught his shank in the furrow of her crease.

“Or maybe it’s not really about the cum,” he said. He kissed the top of her breast, then moved lower and briefly sucked her dark nipple into his mouth.

“Then what?” she asked around a sigh.

He sucked the other nipple, a little longer than the first, letting it harden and buzz inside his mouth against the swirl of his tongue. He let it go with a soft smack. He studied her face thoughtfully. Something about the shape of her features - the way her eyes held on longer than usual, the curious, expectant set of her lush lips, the chaotic tangle of her hair – made him feel like everything inside him was dropping off the side of a cliff, but the rest of him was still standing there on the ledge. His cock was beginning to sizzle in its sweet confinement against her mound.

“It’s that thing you don’t know what is,” he told her in a sure voice, as if the phrase made obvious sense.

Her face broke into an involuntary smile and she looked away. She reached down between them and wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezing lightly. Stroking him. She held his dome to her slippery maw and ran her finger underneath where they joined. “You feel good,” she sighed, “even if you do talk a lot of shit. You hardly even went soft all the way.”

“When you touch me, it makes my skin feel like something else. I don’t know what. Something better, maybe. Like when you touch my skin my skin feels like something that can’t be touched, except you’re touching it anyway.”

“You know, you really talk crazy sometimes.” But she was still smiling.

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well…not sayin’ you have to stop.”

"Good." Then he let his lips brush against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper while he said the rest against her mouth. "Did you know you taste like something I don't know what is? I don't mean your pussy, but ... yeah, your pussy ... but ... your skin and your mouth and even your breath. Everything you are. Everything you have. Maybe even everything you think and feel. It all lives in the air around your body like a nimbus. Like touching you means reaching through a layer of something you're made of before actually touching you."

"Da fuck is a nimbus?"

"It doesn't matter. More shit nobody knows what is. Maybe all I'm saying is you're pretty and you make my dick so hard I just wanna fuck you into next week."

She smiled and her eyes got smoky. "That makes sense. Now you're talking normal."

"Yeah, normal. That's us all the way."

He reared upright and looked down at her, slowly scanning from her face over her collarbones and breasts, down her smooth belly to the lips of her pussy as they encircled the shaft of his half-embedded cock.

"You think I'm a normal girl?"

"I think you know what I think, and I think you can feel it, but you just don't want to be the one to say it when someone wants to touch you inside. Like maybe if you say it it will all disappear."

"Fuck you," she whispered, turning her head to the side.

He leaned over and pursed his lips against the little hollow at the base of her throat. Her skin was damp and softer than anything he ever saw, felt or imagined. She almost tasted of salt, but almost not. He touched the little patch of skin once with his tongue and lifted his head as he began to push his cock through her hand and into her pussy.

“So … ummmm … admit it. It really is about the cum after all,” she said, her eyes hooding over. “You’re just another sad sucker for a nasty girl, aren’t you?”

“Stop asking questions.”

She held her index and middle fingers in a V over the V of her pussy and spread her lips wider while Mr Wolfe’s cock burrowed deeper into her.

“You don’t have to answer, but you gotta let me ask,” she said.

She was smirking and he kissed her as his cock ground to the root. With her fingers clamped around her pussy, her hand was trapped between their bodies. He barely moved except for the slight swivel of his hips as he ground his shaft in a stirring motion inside her. He felt her voice enter his mouth. Barely enough to swallow.

Waves of heat emanated through the nagging hardness of his shaft. He was embedded, unmercifully smitten and hungry for something he would never ask for but always demand.

He reared upright and back on his haunches, keeping his cock deeply entrenched inside her. He slipped each hand under the bend of her knees and pushed her legs up and outward. Her body followed his hands with effortless grace. Supple and pliable. He studied her skin in silence, the meandering terrain of her shape and damp textures.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Her breath was deeper than the words. "Sometimes you do it even when you're not fucking me."

“What way?” He pushed her knees toward her shoulders until she seemed to reach the limit of her own elasticity. His hips swiveled again, but in a wider arc, his cock sweeping a broader swath in the hot confinement of her wet clasp.

“Like you’re thinking something serious you don’t want me to know.”

The muscles inside her rippled down the pulsing stretch of his cock. “Like you say,” he said, slowly drawing the length of his stalk backward until only the blunt dome was nestled in the hot slash of her distended lips, “gotta let you ask. Don't gotta answer.”

Then he pushed back in deep. Her body rocked against the force of the shove. He did it again and they kept their mouths shut. As he began to stroke his cock along her slick walls in a steady rock, they began to speak in a series of whimpering grunts. Sucking air became more important than anything either of them had to say.

Mr Wolfe’s cock was simmering. His balls felt wet and beads of sweat began to drip off his forehead onto her skin. He thought of the way love could appear on a person’s face like a mask of pure confusion, and in moments like this, the wonder could smear into something else – a sneer of hot, muscle-clenching strain, until the sneer finally changed into something else again.

Luna was sneering back at him. She reached under her knees, and pushing his hands out of the way, pulled her own legs even higher and wider than he had dared. Her head tilted back defiantly into her own ink-black mane as it fanned around her.

"It’s just a bunch of fucking meat," he muttered. "Fuck. Fuck."

He leaned forward onto his hands and pump-stroked his cock into the simmering mash of Luna’s pussy with gut clenching thrusts. Somehow, she gnawed her bottom lip and rasped out bone-deep gutter cries at the same time. The trunk of her shimmering body began to move like some bright fish treading water against a stream. Everything made him need to be deeper. Rock bottom was never deep enough, and the cloying ache to be ever deeper and deeper in her skin and blood and soul nearly sent him into paroxysms of yearning.

The unrelenting fuck-slap of their bodies was beginning to grow as loud as their gasping. After the geyser of cum she’d wrenched out of him with her hands, Wolfe wondered if he was even going to cum. He didn’t care. He had everything he wanted right now in the wet scrape of her pussy along his pounding crank.

Luna closed her eyes. Her sneer turned into a grimace as she started to gasp and cum. Mr Wolfe kept shoving forward as hard as his frame would let him. He watched her face while her eyes were clenched and felt a strange wave of sadness wash over him as he thought of how being someone’s wife would surely ruin her. He tried so swear again it was just a bunch of fucking meat, but it didn’t work. The voice that wouldn’t come out of his chest only said she was something more than she either professed or understood.

She was something more than a man was meant to have. Raw, selfless and indefinable.

Then he thought about what she’d said before about making him cum, how she liked making it come out of him especially well. He promised himself she was just a freak playing games with his mind. Everything would be better that way. It’s just a bunch of fucking meat.

She was sweating as heavily as he was now. Wet skin slapped hard and withered down to nothing but pure friction slick as water over stone. It didn’t matter if what he thought and what believed were the same. Everything was about to erupt in hellfire and cum, and tomorrow wouldn’t exist anymore.

Luna opened her eyes and caught him in a hard stare that almost seemed not to include him. She strained to keep her legs high and wide while she shoved her hands toward her smooth pussy, strumming her fingers unmercifully across her clit while he huffed and ground into her again and again.

“On me,” Luna growled.

Wolfe just kept fucking. He thought she must have said something but wasn’t sure.

“On me!” she growled again, deeper this time. She closed her eyes and her body shivered as her fingers drummed fast and hard across her clit, brushing over his pumping cock shaft at the same time.

“On me, Mr Wolfe! Fuck! On me!”

With a heaving grunt, he yanked his cock free of Luna’s pussy and wrapped his fist around it. He was soaked. It was all her. He cranked himself so hard the tip of his shaft kept spanking against her pussy and quicksilver fingers.

“On me, Mr Wolfe! Fuck!”

He wanted to tell her it was all just a bunch of wet, fucking meat. He wanted to tell her to run away as far and as fast as she could and never let a man like him ruin everything she was. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he’d loved her since before they met. He wanted to tell her that thing he couldn’t even remember now about the hellfire, and how the deeper and harder he drove his senseless meat into the burning, honey-lathered sleeve of her body it only drove her deeper inside him.

Everything was assfuck backwards.

He wanted to tell her he was rendered worthless every time she turned her head the other way.

Meat, love, hellfire and cum.

Then something broke inside him and he was showering her in a chaotic spray of flinging cum. He spattered her thrumming fingers and slit. Stray spurts fired across the graceful trunk of her body as her growls descended into breathless whimpers, her body jerking in short spasms as she spiraled off away from him.

But they were both still there when she finally opened her eyes.

They watched each other try to breathe again. Wolfe sat back and studied her from between her thighs. One hand was still in motion over her pussy while the other slid across her body, smearing the cum across her skin the way she’d done to him just a little while before.

She was almost back inside herself, but something was different. She wasn’t trying to cover her face or look away when he pinned her eyes with his. She just looked at him and smiled. He put his hand on top of her foot and traced the tips of his fingers over the bones as he watched her swirl her fingers in the cum on her skin. She dipped her fingertip in a thick bead and raised her hand, watching the string of his cum stretch and finally break.

“That’s you, baby,” she sighed. “It’s like you pouring liquid skin all over my skin. All you. All over me.”

He crawled over her, brushing her cum speckled body with his as he arched upward and scrabbled to straddle her chest. She opened her mouth without a word as he pushed his spent cock between her lips. Her eyes closed as she sucked the mingle of their juices from his flesh.

“That’s us,” he told her, his voice riding a thin rail between a whisper and growl. “That’s us all over.”

He closed his eyes and went lost over the suck and swirl of her mouth. He kept the part about her becoming a luminous fire in the pit of his soul to himself. He'd talked enough shit for one day. Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for more.